About Us

We miss October. We are two of those people who love the art of carving pumpkins and telling ghost stories over hot apple cider, and all the holiday brings. I started writing this blog for myself, keeping track of all I see and do throughout the Halloween season, and have been joined by my haunted friend What a Witch in our quest to live our upstate New York Halloween to the fullest. We document all of our Halloween projects, products and anything we can find related to October 31 here.
This blog is named after a phrase from one of my favorite, not necessarily Halloween-related poems, Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven."
Happy Haunting.

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Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Tonight I finally got around to watching "The American Scream" - the documentary about 3 home haunters (and their long suffering and helping families) in Fairhaven, Massachusetts. For anyone who cares about Halloween, and the work so many of us put into it, this is a tremendously charming, quirky and insightful documentary. And for anyone who may not know, a "home haunter" is a person who creates an (often largely homemade) Halloween experience each October, which transcends mere decorating. Hopefully now that Netlifx has made the film available on their instant streaming service, more people will see this.

The three haunters depicted here are of varied strengths, dedications and experiences, but all live for their Halloween haunt. Victor Bariteau is perhaps the most intense and productive of the trio. Along with his wife and two young daughters (the older who truly does share his passion for All Hallow's Eve), friends and volunteers, Victor puts on quite the impressive, artistic and effective home haunt. The family dynamics, philosophies and stories behind Victor and the other two haunters are so very relatable, and it's a much welcomed thing that we have such a depiction and documentation of what has become the subculture that is the American home haunter.

Yes, I highly recommend this little documentary for anyone who cares-- in the least-- about Halloween. You don't have to be a home haunter on the verge of going professional to relate to the absolute joy these men get from working so hard, for so long, to scare their neighborhoods and communities for one night out of the year. Trailer below.

And then I found this old Corona typewriter at an estate sale. Something about it-- being older, an antique, so writerly, appealed to me; without ever thinking of Ray and his altar. The idea occured later, when I was watching an interview with him and looking for ideas to help remember him and he talked of writing on his typewriter, that I could use the typewriter as his, for my altar. I could even have a piece of his writing coming out of it. I would pile the banned books around the typewriter-- and I thought I had my altar.

One big sticking point for me was the fact, though, I didn't have enough planned to remember Ray's love for Halloween, October, and all the things of the harvest. For a long time my concept felt incomplete. Until, in late October, a harsh wind storm brought down a tree that had been dying in my backyard. I hated that the tree had come down-- and angrily I broke it into pieces to be more easily taken away. I looked at the pieces of tree in my hand, and knew then that I had to use these as part of my altar-- because of Ray's "The Halloween Tree." I had been looking for a way to connect this novel, especially, to my altar, as there is a whole part in the book about the Day of the Dead. And here the way was.

The final altar, titled "Ray Bradbury: 1920 - 2012," is an old red writing/end table. On top of the table is the typewriter. In the typewriter is a piece of paper with a qutoation from Bradbury's "Fahrenheit 451," and around the typewriter are other Bradbury writings, from that novel and "The Halloween Tree." The pages are burnt. Also on the table are pieces of wood from the branches of a tree. Leaning against the table are two big branches from that tree-- and instead of the jack o'lanterns from "The Halloween Tree," the branches hold pieces of burnt paper, with selected passages from commonly challenged and banned books. All of Ray's work is on the typewriter and the table; his legacy, the books that go on to be banned, are on the branches surrounding. In the bottom of the desk are unknown books, faced backward; and another branch with banned words. At the foot of the piece is my traditional El Dia de los Muertos food element: a carved pumpkin, with the numbers "451," made to look like flames.

No real books were harmed in the making of this altar. I was nervous that it wouldn't be easy to know by sight what the altar was about, who it may directly be to and the difference betwen the paper "book pages" and why they were burnt. I was endlessly thrilled at the opening of the "Altars" show when numerous people got it, exactly. It felt wonderful that I could honor Ray Bradbury and his legacy, in my small way, and have others remember, as well. The absolute best compliment I received all night was from one of the other altar artists, who told me, "Thank you for remembering him."